


Remember to Breathe

by platanosandprejudice (marizora)



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Denial, Dreams, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized Biphobia, Internalized hatred, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not Beta Read, Self-Hatred, Shuichi is a useless bisexual, Unrequited Love, bisexual awakening, implied/referenced history of abuse/assault, trans charachters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-27 07:00:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16213868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marizora/pseuds/platanosandprejudice
Summary: Kokichi and Shuichi find space between fantasy and fiction.





	1. Remember to breathe

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first real fan fic. I read somewhere on this hellsite that it’s better to just write the shittiest version of something than to just think about it, so I did that! 
> 
> I may do a series, one from Shuichi’s perspective, and then another Love Hotel with a much happier ending (cause I can only do so much angst)
> 
> This fic takes place directly after Kokichi’s love hotel scene.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kokichi’s fantasy goes all wrong.

He shut the door behind him and started running, tears welling in his eyes. His body moved before his mind could process his surroundings; the scenery didn’t offer enough to get the image of his beloved’s horrified face out of his mind. Pitch black shadows surrounded him on all sides, the only light was the path he kept running on, a seemingly endless hallway. He just wanted to get away, to escape. The memories kept coming, growing more grotesque each time. 

Shuichi, prone against the bed. His lean body, so close. Kokichi could see his breath rise and fall in his chest. He wanted to touch him so badly. Kokichis eyes traced up until he saw the boy’s horrified expression, repulsed by his advances, by him (how could he not be?) 

He was right to be disgusted, that’s what Kokichi was, disgusting. He was filthy and wrong and disgusting and all his want just proved that. 

He ran faster.

Shuichi. 

How could Kokichi be so disgusting, so awful?

_I thought you didn’t care about how I felt. You don’t care about anyone. You don’t know how to care._

Keep running

_You disgust me._

Kokichi forced his eyes shut.

_You’re alone, Kokichi, and you always will be._

He didn’t notice the walkway end. 

Suddenly, he was falling.

The darkness enveloped him, it felt like a million shards of glass all pricking his stupid, disgusting skin.

Pain and falling. 

The last thing he saw was a sudden bright flash, golden eyes.

Then he woke up.

Another dream. 

He was still hyperventilating. He had to breathe. Breathe. As he attempted to slow his breath, he slowly became aware of his surroundings. His pillow was stained with tears, he had thrown off the covers, and his sheet was wrinkled and marked with his sweat. Gross, god, everything about him was gross. The tears, that hadn’t quite left, started to flood back out. He sat up, clenching his fists and pressing his nails deep into his skin. Stop. Stop crying, _you don’t deserve to cry about this._  
It was a technique he was very familiar with, he’d been doing it since he was a kid. 

He looked over to his bed, and the crumpled blankets on the floor. This really was gross; time to fix that. He began the routine of stripping his bed and replacing the sheets as his mind wandered. 

To a certain extent, he felt proud of himself, of his tricks. He’d always been small, and considering that he was 18 and still only 156cm, he was likely going to stay that way. He would never be able to overcome anyone with force, so he learned to be slippery, fast, and primal. Nails, teeth, scratches, whatever worked. But often, it wasn’t enough. That’s when he learned to be cunning, to fool everyone, including himself. When all else failed, his trusty nails were there and ready to force back into his own skin. At least he could control the pain. Someone as annoying, obnoxious, disgusting, as him, deserved to hurt. 

Kokichi smoothed out the new sheets. There. The bed was done. He didn’t feel like re-washing his face, it wasn’t like Monokuma had provided him with his preferred skincare products (he was just waiting for the breakouts to come back, and he missed his 12 step system,) but guilt got the better of him. He went to the bathroom and at least cleansed with the sub-par soaps left to him. He couldn’t afford to look any more hideous. 

He pat-dried his face with tissue paper before returning back to the bedroom. His body tensed as he prepared for his last step. 

Quickly, he removed his stained underwear and threw it into a pile of dirty laundry. Luckily, he had plenty more clean pairs in his dresser. He rushed to put one on and collapsed back into the bed.

Of course he would get wet from a dream like that, god that was just like him. He remembered how eager he was to touch Shuichi, how good it felt to press his (filthy) hands against the other boy’s chest. How he wanted to touch so, so, much more of him. 

He rapidly slapped himself across the face before his mind could wander further. 

Ow. 

It was basically involuntarily at this point, but he knew it was necessary. 

His sexuality was just another one of his tools, a way to manipulate others at best, and at worse, well, something to offer when he didn’t have much else to give. 

Still, he couldn’t help but laugh at himself. Only he would be so fucked up that even in his own fantasies, the boy didn’t want him. 

A darker part of his mind crept up. 

He could have overtaken the detective. Kokichi had him pinned. If he really wanted to, he could have gotten what he desired, pressed his needy body against the incredible, gorgeous man beneath him, let his hands run through his thick black hair, pulling his face close, closer. Shuichi’s lips were always plump and chapped, too much nervous biting. Kokichi often thought about what it could be like to take control of that mouth, wet his lips with kisses and-

Stop.

Kokichi could never do that, not even in a dream.

He knew that pain, that kind of hurt, and he would never, ever, inflict it on anyone else. Deep down, he just wanted a Shuichi who wanted him, but he knew that was impossible. 

He tried to silence all the noise in his mind, and focus on his breathing. 

In.

 

Out.

 

In.

 

 

Out.

 

He was drifting off.

 

He felt warm. 

 

Maybe the voice that reminded him of what a failure he really was had fallen asleep first. He relished in a rare pleasant quiet, and found himself feeling very small.

Shuichi entered his mind again, as he so often did, but this time, his golden eyes looked grateful. He was smiling, laughing even. Kokichi was laughing with him. 

Kokichi felt the detective’s smooth hands rest on the small of his back. They were sitting back on the edge of the love hotel’s bed, only this time, Shuichi was upright, and Kokichi was facing him, positioned on his lap, legs wrapped around the other’s waist. 

He looked so beautiful

_You’re pretty beautiful yourself_ , Shuichi replied. 

Kokichi allowed himself to blush. He’d been called many things before, even compliments. He could remember a string of men grumbling words like “sexy” and “fuckable” at him, but no one had ever called him beautiful, especially not someone as sweet as Shuichi, someone who held him with incredible tenderness. 

Kokichi pushed himself closer to his beloved. He wanted to breathe him in, feel all of him all at once, erase the world and fill his senses with nothing but Shuichi, Shuichi, Shuichi. 

The detective responded with a tight squeeze. 

_I’m here Kokichi._

_I’m with you._

 

...

 

The Kokichi that was alone in a dark room felt sleep overtaking him. 

 

He didn’t want to let his fantasy go. 

 

He made a final plea before dozing off. 

 

 

_Please._

 

_I know it’s not real. It can never be real._

 

_But if I can’t have this reality,_

 

_Please, let me at least have this dream._


	2. What calm feels like

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shuichi examines the evidence. Calmly. 
> 
> ***
> 
> Post love hotel, from Shuichi’s perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get this out! It’s basically a draft, and I feel like it’s harder for me to capture shuichi’s internal monologue, but since the rest of this series will require more intense Research, I wanted to put out something! Thank you for the support! Every Kudo and comment means a lot!!

Ouma slammed the door shut, and Shuichi was relived. 

Naturally. He was relieved, of course.

After a string of encounters that often ended with him in some form of bondage, it was nice to have a tame evening 

It was good to finally be left alone.

Just him.

 

On the bed. 

 

....

 

His heart must have been racing for some other reason.

 

....

 

It was just his body reacting to relief!

He was perpetually anxious, so it made sense that his body literally could not recognize what calm should feel like, instead leaving him with weak knees, trembling hands, and a throbbing heartbeat. Was throbbing the right word? 

He realized that he had been holding his breath, legs quivering yet unable to move from the floor, still on his hands and knees. How could he forget to breathe? He made his way back to the bed and laid down, letting the plush comforter take his weight. Surrounded by pink satin, Shuichi considered his position.

Classic. Too tense to even relax correctly. God he was hopeless. Ouma hadn’t helped. Why did he have to go like that?

Shuichi attempted to stretch, pushing his heels forward as he reached up to his forehead to pull down on his hat, only to find his damp bangs. The roots of his hair were coated in sweat. He missed his hat, but hey, he could still pull on his hair. He began twirling the short strands- why was he so greasy? His skin had actually been less oily lately-losing the hat gave his forehead some room to breathe- but here he was, sweating, hot, flustered, alone. He just wanted to rip his button-down off. It was too tight. 

Monokuma must have turned up the heat. Temperature torture. 

Shuichi shuffled against the bed,  
struggling to find a comfortable position. Everything felt off. 

Why did he call him by his name?

Okay, so the others did that too, sure, but with Ouma, it was just, different. Shuichi wasn’t filling in for a childhood friend, or a student, or a step-brother (thank god) he was just, Shuichi. The awkward, uncomfortable detective (in training). It baffled Shuichi how Ouma managed to mess with his brain even in his fantasies. The boy could be such a tease.

Wait, tease? 

No, just, teasing. Ouma loved to tease, tease everyone! Make fun of.

Words were hard at this time of night.

Shuichi sighed and began to unbutton his shirt. If he was going to be spending the night, might as well get comfortable! His chest still felt warm from when the other boy had pressed his hands against him. He traced the lingering heat with his fingertips, indulging in the phantom touch of his Phantom Thief.

Kokichi must have pushed him really hard, that’s why it was so hot, why he, felt so hot. In his chest. Or maybe he had a fever- were there dream fevers?

He didn’t understand, there was so much that he didn’t understand. He was supposed to be a detective, but he couldn’t even solve the mystery of one boy. 

Shuichi began to replay the events in his head, to gather evidence. Impossible to solve a mystery without evidence, after all. He remembered Kokichi’s serene yet serious expression. Shuichi had seen Ouma sob and “sob.” He had witnessed the spectrum of the Supreme Leader’s varying smirks and smiles, but this look, determined, laser focused as if he could see through Shuichi; this was rare. 

Shuichi was aware of Ouma’s perfect skin, how could he not be? Unlike him, Ouma never looked shiny or blotchy, just, radiant. Glowing. Up close, when he had been standing so very near to the detective, purple eyes meeting his own, and him, trying to look anywhere else, he could take in details: wisps of faint hairs along the sides of his face, small scars on his jaw and neck. He’d never been able to see much of his neck before, covered by that stupid scarf, it was so inconvenient. He would have to take it off if he wanted to get a decent look, to examine. 

Shuichi wondered if the scars were flat or raised. He would probably have to touch him to check, feel the skin and memorize the topography of his face, no, the scars. 

Just the scars.

Shuichi had closed his eyes without realizing, but that was fine, he needed to visualize, after all. His breathing had slowed, but it somehow felt heavier, and he could sense his chest rising and lowering, slowly. Up. Down. The heat in his chest hadn’t gone away. He pushed his hand through the opening in his shirt to attempt and cool the heat with gentle touch. He exhaled and let his tension release with his breath, pressing further down and then

Shuichi woke up. 

_...What?_

_...morning already?_

Morning, good. 

Good!

As he allowed light and consciousness to fade in he thought to himself

_Last night, with Kokichi...was that a dream?_

That heat. His expression. Fierce, violet eyes. 

_...I can’t even figure him out in my dreams._

 

Shuichi had a long day ahead, he needed to get dressed, and quickly. 

But first, 

he needed to grab a glass of water. 

He was uncharacteristically thirsty this morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol shuichi that’s gay.
> 
> Most of Shuichi’s bits are going to be much Lighter, at least at first. Shuichi’s going to need to talk with Maki about bisexuality and being gay for Momota before he can even deal with his feelings for the gremlin boy. 
> 
> Meanwhile poor kokichi, I’m working on a rather long part detailing the history of his relationship with Gonta, his closest friend. 
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated! I may edit this later.

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a full work now! Again, this is my first time writing fic, so I really appreciate any feedback!


End file.
